What A Funny Thing
by andersaa
Summary: This is a Sherlock x Reader and this has many TRIGGER WARNINGS! You and Sherlock meet under.. Strange circumstances. You are both incredibly intelligent and you end up living at 221B and go on adventures. You have a very strange and mysterious past and are very hard to read even for the talented detective.
1. Mister Holmes

**Soooooo, I really needed to do this and I can't stop myself and there are a lot of supportive people out there, and I just want to say thanks for everything. This is Reader x Sherlock if you didn't read the description. There might be a a few trigger warnings... Actually A LOT of trigger warnings.. So, just enjoy..**

 **If you didn't bother to read that: 99 TRIGGER WARNINGS ON THE WALL, 99 TRIGGER WARNINGS**

 **[P/C] = Preferred Colour**

You ran down the streets of London, the cold air chilling you to the bone. Under your long [P/C] trench coat was a belt with an empty holster. You had your SIG-Sauer P226R drawn and your hand with it pointed behind you as you ran forward. Your [H/L] [H/C] hair was dripping with sweat. On your lips was a slightly psychotic smile, but you weren't a psychopath, at least, if people did there research they wouldn't _call_ you one. No, you were a highly functioning sociopath.

The game was on and excitement filled you [E/C] eyes. Your smile stayed as the adrenaline kept pumping through your veins making you run faster, think better (if that were possible), and react quicker. It was pushing you on seeing as you were being pursued by some very angry criminals. You may have infiltrated their base and stole the information you needed. The papers were folded nicely in the top pocket of your [P/C] trench coat.

You turned a sharp corner and ran into a hard object. "Do watch where you're going next time.." you heard a deep voice say in a slightly offhand way. He looked down to see your panting figure smiling up at him. His brow furrowed as he began to look you up and down and he noticed you were doing the same to him. Shouts began sounding and you ran into an alley just to your left. The tall man leaned against the wall as if nothing happened and the men ran past. You turned and began walking away, "Pleasure doing business with you Mister Holmes." you said as you raised your hand in a small wave. You realized how alike you dressed. He raised an eyebrow appearing impressed.

"And who might you be?" he asked in a voice of interest.

"Someone you'll be seeing around." you said still walking away with a smirk on your face and the gun in your hand. You pointed the gun at the sky and shot it several times. "The police will be here in a few minutes." you shouted back to him, "Just tell them you solved the case!" He stood there, flabbergasted, as you walked away. He was interested. He couldn't read you at all, but you could read him. And what you saw, you liked.

He watched you until you disappeared around a corner. For a few moments he was tempted to chase after you, but he fought that urge. Too many questions were chasing each other around in his head, like _How did you know him? Why couldn't he read you? and Who were you?_ Thoughts still were swirling in the consulting detective's brain when the police arrived. Lestrade stepped out of the car to see Sherlock still staring at the corner where you turned.

"Sherlock!" Lestrade shouted at the detective, "We heard there were gunshots fired over here! What in Hell's name happened?"

"I've solved the case, as always." he said in a bored voice to Lestrade. Lestrade looked shocked. He was at a loss for words. "Wh-What?" he stuttered, "W-We've been working on that case for weeks!"

"You're welcome." said Sherlock, "They ran ahead," he said pointing the direction they ran with his gun, "They're gonna be cut off down a dead end in an alley if you hurry."

"Thanks Sherlock!" he shouted as he told everyone what happened and where to go. Sherlock stood there a few moments after the police left, then started making his way back to 221B to tell John about this strange night. (Even if John wasn't there.)

 **So I kinda realized I've been doing SuperWhoLock, and I want to do tons more, and I will once I get this one dona and another Supernatural and Doctor Who fic done... :-P Then I'm doing a requested Homestuck Reader x Cronus. :-D Thanks so much for all this!**


	2. Coffee At Angelo's

**So I really like this and it's like 3:30 a.m. and I can't sleep, so this is knackered me righting a chapter.. Yay. Sorry if it sucks because I'm incredible sleep deprived, I might change it later to be written better. :-P**

As you kept walking you were thinking about Sherlock. Of course you knew who he was! Who wouldn't between the curly black hair, ivory skin, cheekbones, fashion sense, personality, the steel gray eyes, etc. You could scan him easily. Not to mention you could spot another highly functioning sociopath from a mile away. Deducing people was one of the things you did best, and let's just say Sherlock wasn't the only one who was a consulting detective for a living.

You turned right knowing exactly where you were going,you had memorized all the streets, signals, and signs of London. Every crossing, you knew. Every store, you knew. Every pub, you knew. You were going to Angelo's restaurant. You walked in the door, said "The usual.", and sat down at the table next to the window. You looked out the window, still thinking about the detective.

You decided when you got home you would go into your Mind Palace and dig up everything you had on the man named Sherlock Holmes. "Black coffee, two sugars." came Angelo's voice from above your head. You turned you head and looked up to see him smiling politely at you. "Thanks Angelo." you muttered with a grateful smile. "You look like you've run a marathon." he said. You raised your [H/C] eyebrows and shrugged as if to say 'Well...'

"What happened?" he pressed on. You sighed. He wasn't giving up without a fight, although he knew when you were _really_ hot and bothered. "Well," you began, "I was running from some blokes, just another cast, you know, then I turn a corner after about a mile of running and I run into Mister Holmes who helped a bit." At the word 'Holmes' Angelo's eyebrows shot up into his hair. "You met Sherlock?" he asked in a disbelieving tone.

" _No_ ," you said sarcastically, "Mycroft just happened to be roaming around the streets of London." Angelo smiled at your comment and chuckled, "Sherlock gets the same thing you know, black with two sugars."

"Yes I realized.." you muttered.

"I reckon you did, you're practically his twin. Personality-wise anyway." You rolled you eyes and continued drinking your coffee. Angelo sauntered away to go greet a new customer. You sat there for a moment drinking your coffee when the door opened once more and two men stepped inside. One tall and pale, the other short and blonde.

The tall man said, "The usual." Then sat down at the table next to yours, also looking out the window. You smiled into your black coffee with two sugars. You beckoned Angelo over, Sherlock still not paying attention to anything. You whispered something in his ear and handed him some money. You and Sherlock were sitting back to back, and John could only see the back of your head. Angelo brought over the black coffee and John began to pull out his wallet. "No no," said Angelo smiling, you taking another sip of your coffee. "This one's on the house."

"Thank you Angelo." said John smiling.

"I'm not the one paying." he said. Sherlock then came out of his revere looking confused, John, too, looked confused. You then turned around and whispered in Sherlock's ear, "I told you you's be seeing me again Mister Holmes." You smiled, this was gonna be fun.

 **This is all my sleep deprived self is willing to wright. I'm falling asleep over my keyboard! The next chapter is gonna be longer, I promise. I just need SLEEP! :-P**


	3. Classic Rock?

**This is really fun to wright with you as the character! This is going to get interesting quickly. ;-)**

Sherlock spun around with a shocked face. You smirked. "Umm, I don't understand." John said.

"You should put that on a t-shirt." you said teasingly. Sherlock turned back to John trying to hide the excitement on his face. He wanted to know all about you. Comprehension dawned on John's face as Sherlock mouthed the words 'That's the woman from earlier!'. _How did she know what coffee I liked?_ thought Sherlock. You rolled your eyes, finished your coffee, left a few pounds on the table, got up, and walked out back into the cold streets of London. Sherlock peered out the window as you passed and distinctly saw you wink before you disappeared from his view for the second time tonight.

The disappointment showed clearly on the detective's face. "Who is she?" asked John. "That's a good question Watson.." he mumbled. You and the detective had much more in common than he knew. You turned up your trench coat's collar and fixed your [P/C] scarf's position around your neck. Sherlock was just finishing his coffee and John claimed he wasn't hungry. They left and began heading for their cozy old flat located 221B Baker Street.

You took a left and walked into a pawn shop that clearly said _CLOSED_. It was boarded up with peeling paint and broken windows. You slipped between two of the looser boards. In the room was a crappy box spring "mattress" and a plate with some food dug out of the garbage. You were lucky to get a good coffee these days, much less all the nicotine patches you needed. You pulled up your right sleeve and looked at the three patches currently on you arm. You sighed, this was going to be another all nighter.

Not that you minded, you didn't need much sleep at all. Just a 20 minute nap now and again. It was a very shabby and poorly put together room. You usually pick-pocketed Lestrade to get coffee money, he thinks it's Sherlock, which Sherlock, of course, pick-pockets him too. You sighed and set the papers among the mass of objects you had strewn about the room.

You didn't know what else to do, so you sat down on the side of the box-spring and went into your mind palace digging up everything you had on Sherlock Holmes through the whole night until you saw a pale gray tinge coming into the sky. About then you decided it would be a good time to go for a stroll, it'd clear your head at least. As you stepped out the door the pale gray became a salmon pink. It would soon break out into a flaming mix of shocking red, heart-stopping oranges, and breathtaking yellows.

As you walked along you turned down an alley where you saw a figure in the shadows... A figure with an umbrella. _Mycroft._ you thought. You were surprised. "Hello there Mycroft." you said with a dainty wave. Mycroft couldn't read you any more than his brother could. He, however, dismissed that thought. "Hello [Y/N]." he said offhandedly. You sighed. "I don't suppose an esteemed man like yourself just decided to go for a stroll, did you?" comprehension dawned on your features, and back came the smile of a sociopath.

"You've come to warn me about your brother, haven't you. He's quite a character." Mycroft merely opened his mouth, as if to say something, but closed it, deciding he's rather not say it. After a few moments, he spoke, "You already seem intent on helping him. He can be dangerous. You seem to dress like him, not to mention your deductions are-"

"Well, I don't know what my deductions are, but yours are just what you see and hear, impress me Mycroft, come on." you smirked. Mycroft faltered and the pressing fact that he couldn't read you came back to him once more, and he fell silent. "There you go, learning now, aren't we?" you said in a playful tone. "You may think you know me," you continued in an icy tone, "but you don't know who you're dealing with, or what I'm capable of. You'll find the papers you've been searching for around here, the same time as now. That would be around.." you glanced at your watch, "8:17 a.m. Got it Mycroft?" he nodded, "Good."

You turned and walked away, putting your hand up in the same small wave you gave Sherlock, "Always a pleasure doing business with the Holmes family, ta." You decided the other Holmes brother should be paid a visit. He had questions for you, and you _loved_ it. The game was on! You began walking towards the homey flat of Sherlock's at 221B Baker Street.

 **\^Time Skip^/**

You stared at the black door with the gold knocker with matching gold numbers and a letter: _221B_. You reached up, grabbed the knocker, and pounded three times before standing and waiting. Moments later a motherly looking lady appeared you smiled and began deducing immediately. _Single, used to be married, older, motherly._ It took you a while to realize she was looking at you expectantly with a kind smile on her face. "Oh, um," you said, the usual [S/C] skin on your face becoming a light shade of pink as you blush, "Is Sherlock home?"

"Oh, why yes," she said in a happy voice, it then became one of pity, "but I'm sorry to say if you're here for a case he's a little tied up at the moment."

"Oh, no, I'm just here to see him." you said putting on a _normal_ looking smile, "I promise not to distract him Mrs. Hudson." She looked a little taken aback, but recovered quickly. "W-well, he's upstairs." she stuttered. You smiled as a 'Thank you' then said with as much politeness as you could muster, "I'm [Y/N], nice to meet you Mrs. Hudson." Yep, that's it, you were done being so polite today. It was drained out of you.

You walked up the stairs to hear a sweet violin melody. You recognized it instantly as one of your favorite songs: Carry On My Wayward Son. (I was gonna give a choice... But I couldn't resist.. If you want read it like you had a choice.) He had been playing it for a while. You stopped at your spot on the stairs and began singing it under your breath. You thought you had a terrible voice. " _Masquerading as a man with a reason, My charade is the event of the season, and if I claim to be a wise man, Well, It surely means that I don't know."_

You stopped singing listening to the hauntingly beautiful melody of the violin. Little did you know that Mrs. Hudson had heard you. _She has one of the prettiest voices._ she thought. You hadn't noticed that you had started singing a little louder and were sitting on the steps when you prepared yourself for the chorus. " _Carry on my wayward so-o-o-on, there'll be peace when you are do-one, lay your weary head to re-e-e-est, don't you cry no more!"_ on the last word you kinda half yelled and the violin stopped abruptly. Sherlock thought you had a beautiful voice too.

You covered your mouth with both your hands and stood up. You turned towards the door of his flat and walked silently towards it where he then started to play Smells Like Teen Spirit. You opened the door to see him playing a violin with his back to the door. You smirked again and said, "I didn't think you'd love Classic Rock as much as me. Surprise, Mister Holmes."

 **TOLD YOU THIS CHAPTER WOULD BE LONGER! This was a fun chapter to wright! All of this is fun! Moriarty is still to come. :-D**


	4. New Flatmate

**So this is just so.. *incoherent dinosaur sounds* I love it SO much. Right in the feels. This may be a long chapter but I know for sure that it will have TRIGGER WARNINGS. Warnings: Self harm and depression.. For this chapter anyway.. ;-)**

He was shocked. Shocked and happy. He turned around to see you leaning on the door frame of the flat's entrance. John walked in the room and dropped his coffee mug when he saw you standing in the doorway. He put his hand over his heart and whispered, "Jesus..." as he bent down to pick up the broken mug. "How come you're here?" Sherlock asked. You grinned. "Got room for one more in this little flat of yours? You aren't the only consulting detective around here anymore." Sherlock smiled and said, "What do _you_ think?" John looked up, alarmed, "Hold on a second, are you two dating or something?" Both your heads snapped towards him as you both blushed lightly and said, "No!"

"Suure." John muttered.

"What was that?" you and Sherlock both snapped instantly.

"Nothing." he said quickly, "And you didn't even ask me if I was okay with her staying here."

"Well," you began, "There's the fact that you couldn't turn me away." you said with a wicked glint in your eyes. He sighed. _This might no end well in the long run.._ he thought. "Well?" you asked, "What do you say Watson?" His brow furrowed, then it unknitted, with I sigh he shrugged and it clearly said, _Why not?_ You smiled and sat down on the couch by Sherlock's chair. You snatched the violin out of Sherlock's hand. "Hey!" he shouted, reaching out to grab the violin back.

You kept it out of his reach. "Nope!" you said with a mischievous glare in your eye. You readied the bow with a flick of your wrist and Sherlock sat back in his chair, apparently doubtful that you could play, and was clearly saying _Go on._ You smirked and began to play vigorously. The notes were forming into the song you adored, _Wretched And Divine_. You began singing to it. Sherlock and John sat back, relaxed, and listened to the beautiful voice you had that you thought was horrible.

The last notes (" _And divine!_ ") you and Sherlock finished together. John looked taken aback, he didn't know Sherlock sang. You smirked again. You knew you could get it out of him. You handed Sherlock back the violin. "I can play violin, see?" you said.

"I never said you couldn't." Sherlock retorted.

"You thought it, it's annoying." John rolled his eyes at the pair of you. "Do you two even hear yourselves?" he asked, "You are exactly the same!" You and Sherlock rolled your eyes in unison. "Jesus.." John whispered to himself again and walked out of the room. You sighed and laid down on your back on the couch that looked rather like one that a therapist's patient would use. You folded your hands under your chin and closed you eyes.

"Got any nicotine patches?" you asked abruptly, breaking the silence that filled the room. Sherlock sighed and handed you a patch. With your eyes still closed you said, "No, I need more than one. It's impossible to contain a smoking habit in London these days. Do you have three I can use?"

"Three?" Sherlock asked, raising his eyebrow.

"It's a three patch problem, and you wear three too, so don't think girls aren't the same."

He smiled one of the only genuine smiles he's ever given anyone and handed you three patches. You eyes shot open quickly and snatched the patches out of his hand hungrily. You turned your arm so he couldn't see the raised bits on your skin that drained the happiness out of you as soon as you saw them. You placed the three patches over the precise scars a fine razor had made all up and down both your arms and both your legs.

Sherlock had never dreamed of even attempting that. For you it started off as an experiment. How much blood you could draw before passing out. It soon spun into uncontrollable depression. Nothing anyone said helped. Nothing ever did. It was something you did to punish yourself. For acting stupid, messing something up, getting something wrong. It became your habit. One you still carry. There were the scars up next to your wrist that were tinged red. You had several scars that weren't your doing. he most noticeable was the one that arched from your left eyebrow in a jagged line down to your collarbone.

"So, where do you want to sleep?" Sherlock's gravelly voice broke you out of your revere. You yanked your shirt sleeve, jacket sleeve, and trench coat sleeve up and turned to him with forced kindness in your features. "I can just sleep on the couch." you said with a smile. Sherlock raised an eyebrow, "You can sleep in my bed. I won't be sleeping tonight anyway."

"Where's your room?"

"Follow me." He stood up and turned fairly quickly. You followed his lead and with one swift motion, your [P/C] trench coat was in a heap on the floor in the corner. His head jerked back at the movement with a smile planted on his lips. "You've got a new flatmate." you said with a shrug as you followed. He opened a door along a hall and let you pass. "Just check out the room," he said bluntly, "Please excuse the clutter I-"

"Clutter? This isn't clutter. These are experiments." you smiled. A glint in Sherlock's eye appeared as you said 'experiments'. "Sherlock!" John's voice came from the kitchen in an alarmed tone. "He's probably found the fingernails..." Sherlock muttered as he dashed away. You laughed quietly. You began to take in the room. You took a deep breath. The room smelled like him... Cedar and.. Hm.. Old parchment and.. London. Something about him smelled like the city you came to know as home.

 **Later That Evening**

You obviously were staying up all night anyway. You rejected Sherlock's offer to stay in his room. You needed to sneak out to give Mycroft the papers. After that no more of Mycroft. You walked into the bathroom, locked the door, and began to strip down, every article of clothing you had on falling on the cold tile floor. You wanted a nice bath before "bed". You still had your pants and knickers on when you started the warm water flow. As you took off your pants and let them fall to the floor you heard a small _clink_.

You looked over to see the glimmer of sharp metal lying on the hard tile floor. Standing in the light all your scars suddenly looked carved in and grotesque. You looked into the mirror and saw how distorted they made you look. One tear rolled down your cheek, then two, then a river of silent tears were streaming down your face. The blade looked so much more appealing now that you had spotted every single one of your imperfections and focused on them. You finished stripping down and got in the bathtub.

You grabbed the blade from where you were laying. You tossed it in between your hands, pondering if you should risk it. You decided to risk it. You took the blade and made one cut on your upper thigh and you relished the pain. _Ugly_ you thought. A cloud of blood red rose from the wound, tinging all the water a light shade of pink. More and more cuts all down your legs pursued and soon the water was a deep shade of crimson. _Fat, Know-It-All, Freak, Jerk, Depressing, Needy._ Every insult was another cut. You were nearly ready to faint and doubted you could get up. Your vision was incredibly blurred and you looked at your hand to see it was white as a sheet.

You somehow stood up and got out stumbling to the floor with a loud _bang_. You heard footsteps rushing towards the door. "What was that?!" you heard John shout through the door. You didn't trust your voice and you were bleeding everywhere. "W-wow." you stuttered faintly, putting the blade back in the pocket of your jeans, "C-Can't-t a g-g-girl g-get-t s-som-me p-priv-vac-cy?" you stuttered barely able to talk correctly. You stood up once more draining the tub that was more full of blood than water. "[Y/N]!" Sherlock shouted through the door, "What's going on?!"

"N-Nothin' Sherly." you said. you sopped up the blood on your legs and found some bleach. You bleached out the tub and bleached the floor you pulled some thick gauze out and wrapped your legs sloppily twice. Some pigment was coming back to your [S/C] skin and your vision wasn't blurred anymore. You bleached the towel you used to sop up the blood white. There was no evidence of what had just happened. "What was that crash?!" asked John's still alarmed voice.

"I fell, geez, you're so protective. I just met you today Watson." you said through the door. Once you were sure you could trust your legs you stepped out in your normal [P/C] silk shirt and dress pants. John and Sherlock were standing outside the door with concerned looks on their faced. They're noses scrunched when you opened the door. "It smells like a crime scene." said John, "I know from experience."

"I bleached out your tub." you said with a timid laugh that was like a tinkling bell to Sherlock. "Your legs must hurt from falling." Sherlock said, "Let me see."

"No, I'm fine, promise." Sherlock shrugged and walked to the kitchen. John still looked mildly concerned. "Oh," you said, "By the way Watson, Afghanistan or Iraq?"

 **OH MY GOSH I FINISHED THIS AT 2:30 A.M AND I'M SO HAPPY AND... *more incoherent dinosaur noises* Sorry, I'm just excited. Any suggestions on the next chapter? I have lots of ideas! Any Fic requests for anything, let me know! ;-) Thanks guys!**


	5. Don't Tell Mummy

**This is gonna be a good chapter, remember I do not own any of the characters or episodes of Sherlock. Then again, maybe I do, I can never tell. :-3**

John's face became confused, then he sighed, shrugged, and said, "Afghanistan."

"Thought so."

"Are you sure that your legs are okay?"

"Fine, just slipped, I mean, I've been shot at before and... Well, let's just say not all of them were misses."

"Really? Where have you been shot?" You patted right below your heart and said with a slightly worrying smile, "That was my first bullet wound." John patted his leg, "Got shot at." he said with a smile, "Where'd you get the scar on your face, if you don't mind me asking."

"Funny enough," you said as politely as you could, "I do mind." You shrugged to say 'sorry'.

"It's getting late!" Sherlock announced from the living room. You and John headed into the living room to see Sherlock on the computer. "Are you getting any sleep?" John asked Sherlock. "I don't need sleep." he said. You walked over to a wood chair and sat like Spiderman on the seat. Sherlock eyes darted over to you sitting there and he smirked.

John looked at the two of you and rolled his eyes with a smile. "You really don't think you'd make a good couple?" he asked. Sherlock rolled his steely gray eyes as you rolled your [E/C] eyes. John shook his head, still smiling, and walked out of the room. You went over to the couch, laid down, closed your [E/C] eyes, and drew into the deepest corners of your Mind Palace. Sherlock looked over at you and smiled. You looked cute when you were like that. Different then the feisty detective you were in the day.

He shut off the computer, walked over to a cabinet, and pulled out a blanket. He draped it over you and shut off the lights. The moonlight flooded into the room and threw your scar into clearer view. He saw every jagged line and broken off piece on your scar. He walked to his room and thought about you for a while. His final thought before drifting off into the first sleep he's had in a while was, _Maybe John wasn't so wrong after all_.

You came out of your Mind Palace at around 7:17 a.m. You still had roughly an hour to get the papers to Mycroft. You noticed a blanket was on you and you wondered how that got there. There was no time for that. You silently got up and changed into your other dress pants, [P/C] shirt, black suit jacket, [P/C] scarf, leather boots, and you slipped on your [P/C] trench coat. You strapped on your holster, grabbed your gun and you were out the door moments later. You dashed out the door and you heard Mrs. Hudson ask you, "You're still here?"

You realized you forgot to tell Mrs. Hudson you were moving in. You made a mental note to do that when you got back. The cold London morning air felt good on your skin. You dashed down the rather empty streets to the ramshackle pawn shop that you formerly called home. You quickly slipped between the two loose boards among all of them used to keep people out. You snatched the papers and glanced at your watch. 7:37 a.m. You had plenty of time. You slipped out once more and walked casually down the street into the alley. You pulled the dagger you kept in your boots out.

You took the papers out of your top pocked and unfolded them. You placed them on the ground and stabbed the top-right corner into the soft dirt. You took out a razor and made a deep cut in your left wrist. You took your right index finger and dipped it in your blood. You wrote a message across the formerly white paper. _Don't tell mummy._ You took your scarf and wrapped it around your wrist, staining it red. You tied it there and walked out of the ally. You put up your razor and glanced at your watch. 7:42 a.m. You had 37 minutes left, you decided a visit to Angelo's wouldn't be bad.

Then you realized you, of course, had no money. You saw a man walking down the street in a suit. He had gray hair. Detective Inspector Lestrade. You smiled and walked up to him. "Hello Lestrade." He looked taken aback. "Who the hell are you?" he asked. You rolled your [E/C] eyes. "Not very polite today are we. [Y/N] by the way." you said holding out your hand. He shook it reluctantly. "So.." he asked, "How do you know who I am?"

"It's awfully hard to see a paper without your face in it. Also, it's not so hard to pickpocket you either." you said holding up a piece of folded leather. He patted all his pockets ferociously and then looked violated. "Is that my-?!"

"Yes," you interrupted, "It is your wallet." He made a grab for it, but you kept it out of his reach. Then you handed it gently back to him. "Do you..." he said tentatively, "By any chance know a man by the name of Sherlock Holmes."

"Excellent deduction Gary."

"Greg."

"Whatever." you said with a shrug. He rolled his eyes. "You two are just alike, you are."

"Why does everyone say that?"

"Because it's true."

"Well then, I expect you'll be seeing me on many cases soon Lestrade." you said happily. "You think murder is fun too?" Lestrade asked disbelievingly. "Well," you began, "Normal murders can be.. Boring. Just the good stuff! When the game is on and the adrenaline is pumping through your veins, nothing cam compare to the thrill of the hunt." you smiled.

"You're a psychopath.." Lestrade muttered. "Actually," you corrected, "I'm a highly functioning sociopath, do your research." and with that, you turned and walked away, giving Lestrade the small wave you gave everyone.

 **Back At 221B**

You sat on the couch, the only one up. Turns out Mrs. Hudson just needed to use the loo that morning. You flopped over and pulled out your pointed it blindly at a yellow smiley face on the wall and shot it right in the eye while shouting, "Bored!"

 **Done with this chapter, I'm going on to Moriarty next chapter hopefully! Thanks for the awesome comments!**


	6. Moriarty

**It's raining...it's pouring... Sherlock is boring... It's raining... I'm crying... Sherlock is dying... NOPE JUST KIDDING! But Moriarty is coming in this chapter if you didn't take the hint.**

You heard rushed footsteps coming up the stairs when a figure with it's hands over it's ears appeared. "What in the bloody hell was that?!" he screeched.

"Bored..." you muttered.

"What?!" he asked.

You hopped up and began doing a sort of dance shooting the smiley face and with every shot the word "Bored!" echoed in a singsong voice out of your mouth and with every "Bored!" out of your mouth came the resounding cry of "No!" from the helpless Watson standing in the doorway.

Mrs. Hudson was the next to come careening up the stairs at a worried pace. "What's happening?!" she asked, her eyes wide in alarm. You flopped down on your chair once more and muttered, "Bored..." That statement was met from a, "You're _still_ here?!" from Mrs. Hudson. You popped out of your seat and walked up to her, "Why, yes, and I'll be living in this flat as well." Mrs. Hudson looked shocked. "B-But there's only two beds." she said. "Oh," you said with a smile, "I don't sleep."

Sherlock appeared in the doorway of his bedroom, he was woken, but not alarmed by, the sound of gunshots. He hadn't slept like that in months. "Who was shooting the wall?" he asked in his usual deep, bored sounding voice. You spun around and saw him standing there his hair was tousled in a way that was... Actually really hot... _WHAT?!_ you found yourself thinking, _WHAT WAS THAT HEAD?!_ You shook your head slightly then said, "I was the one shooting the wall."

"Why?"

"Because I was bored, why else?"

 **Later That Day**

Lestrade called Sherlock in. You were all just sitting down in the parlor. Mrs. Hudson had made some lovely tea and the boys were asking you questions about yourself. Well, I say boys, it was mainly John. There was a news story on the telly about a bomb. Sherlock was pondering why he couldn't deduce you. His phone rand and broke him out of his revere. Sherlock grabbed his coat and John stood up to leave. Seconds later they were out the sighed. In your [E/C] eyes for a moment some hope shown, you were dreadfully bored now.

"Well dear," Mrs. Hudson said, "What's your last name?" You opened your mouth slightly. You didn't want to say it. **Not. At. All.** You were saved, however, by Sherlock leaning down and whispering in your ear, "How would you like to help solve a mystery?" You set down your tea gently, turned around, and whispered in his ear, "Mister Holmes... Oh God yes." You hopped up and pulled on your [P/C] trench coat and were out the door before you heard Mrs. Hudson screech, "All of you?!"

Mrs. Hudson, however, was slightly taken aback. Sherlock had never done anything like that before. It looked kind of.. Romantic to her, but she knew Sherlock didn't do things like that. Or did he?

"What's happened?" you asked Sherlock with your psychotic smile. "There's been an explosion." he said with the same grin as you, "John's already there." The game was on and you both loved it. When you got there Lestrade recognized you instantly. "Hey aren't you-" he began. You cut him off, "Yes, I'm the woman from earlier, Lestrade."

"So, why am I here Lestrade."

"There was a bomb!"

"Yes, but you wouldn't have called us here is you didn't need our help."

 _Us? Our? Sherlock always makes it about him, why suddenly say us and our?_ Lestrade thought, _That girl must be special to him._

"There was this." he said handing over a bright pink phone, "It's from a Study In Pink."

"A Study in Pink- Do you read his blog?!" Sherlock asked in an outraged tone.

"Of course! We all do!"

He sighed and his eyes darted over to you, then back to the phone, then they stayed on you once more. "[Y/N], are you okay?" he asked. You had gotten pale very quick at the sight of the phone. "F-Fine..." you stuttered.

"This phone," Sherlock said, not taking his eyes off you, "Is not the real phone, but someone has gone through a lot of trouble to make it look like the real phone, and [Y/N] are you sure you're okay, because when I said it wasn't the real phone your skin certainly took on a more green tinge."

"I need t-to go." you said, stumbling out of the room. Sherlock grabbed your wrist. You looked back at him and were surprised to see his eyes were soft and he whispered gently, "What's wrong?"

"I can't work this case.." you whispered apologetically. You wriggled out of his grip and walked back to 221B. When Sherlock and John got back to the flat, you weren't there. They looked for you, but they were rushing about all day trying to keep people from dying. When they got back it was dark and you were back at the flat.

When they walked in the door you instantly said, "What's up?"

"I need to think!" Sherlock shouted, his hands were folded and inside them was a USB drive. "So, this is about Mycroft... The cases you were working on merged." Sherlock looked up at you. "And how could you _possibly_ know that?"

"Well," you held up Sherlock and John's phone, "They aren't exactly hard to steal. Can I please help?"

"You backed out on us earlier." said John, furrowing his brow.

"I want to help, and I will, whether you like it or not." you said and Sherlock began pacing the room, "Fine! Fine!" he shouted, waving his hands about.

 **At The Pool**

"I gave you my number.. I thought you might call.." came a grotesquely familiar disembodied voice. You pulled out your gun instantly. Your heart rate quickened and blind fear consumed you. Sherlock glanced at you with a confused look then peered around for where the voice came from. John looked terrified. A figure in a suit came from around the corner. "That's right." he said. You fell backwards and backed up as far into the corner as you could while still pointing the gun at Jim. He looked at you and his jaw dropped.

"[Y/N]?!" he asked running over to the other side of the pool, dropping the villain thing. You tried to back further into the corner. Sherlock had dropped the gun. Jim was right in front of you and was kneeling down. "Wh-What are you doing here?" he asked with a smile.

"I-I was trying to not be normal.." you whispered back with a quiet laugh.

"Y-you were never normal." said Jim. He pulled back your sleeves to reveal the raised bits of skin all up your arms. You yanked it back down. "I'm sorry.. I'm so, so sorry.." he said looking sad and putting his head in his hands.

You lowered your gun and hugged the sad man. "You're not the only one who's sorry.." Sherlock and John looked terrified. Sherlock suddenly asked, "Who are you to **her**." Jim looked up at him with tears in his eyes and you looked down at your hands folded in your lap. "Didn't she tell you?" he asked. Sherlock shook his head. Jim looked at you and you shook your head.

"This is [Y/N] Moriarty, my little sister."

 **Plot twist! Yes my people, yes, you are, indeed, a Moriarty. It is one of my favorite twists I've ever thought of. I thought of it halfway through writing this and there's a LOT of time skips, I hope you liked it! :-D**


	7. You Win

**Just read.**

Sherlock visibly tensed. Then he dropped his gun. No, I don't think you understand, he _literally dropped_ his gun. It hit the cold floor with a _clang_ and went off, causing a small hole with cracks to appear in the opposite wall. John was the only one who flinched at the loud sound of the gun. Sherlock's hand was still supported in midair.

You and Jim stood up and with a flick of his wrist there was not a laser on John's chest. You grabbed the right side of Jim's jacket and pulled him forward. You stood slightly on your toes to reach Jim's ear and the sight brought a small smile to Sherlock's lips. You whispered this in Jim's ear, "I.O.U." You pulled back to see the desperate warning look on Jim's face.

You looked at him and said in a severe tone, "Lot's of deals never to be broken, that's the problem playing on the side of the demons. Most people who play on that side, contrary to popular belief, are the ones playing by the rules. I may be on the side of the angels, but don't think for one second that I am one. Now, make mummy happy."

"Oh," Moriarty said with a smirk, a far cry from the sad man from moments ago, "You're the one who upset her."

"Yes, but I was just..." you stepped towards him and whispered so quietly in his that it was barely audible, ".. Playing the game. There's always the Final Problem for me."

You turned to Sherlock who's hand was at his side once more and his gun was back in the holster. Jim walked out, defeated. Once he was out of sight you and Sherlock rushed over to John. Sherlock ripped off the coat and you ripped off the bomb. You both threw each item aside. "Are you okay?" Sherlock asked John. You tried to sink into the background to escape the questioning looks and glares.

"Yeah, I'm... Fine." said John, peering over at you. Sherlock turned to follow John's line of view. He walked up to you and crossed his arms. You became rigid at once and avoided eye contact. "You know," Sherlock began, "For someone so intelligent, I can't say I'm shocked he's your brother." Your eyes shot up to meet the steel gray eyes with a relieved light in them.

You smiled up at the pale detective. "Thanks Sherly." you said. Sherlock's expression suddenly turned into a playful sour expression. John rolled his eyes behind Sherlock's back, but you saw and giggled. "Thanks John." you said sarcastically rolling your own [E/C] eyes. Suddenly a cascade of red lights appeared on Sherlock and John's bodies.

"Sorry guys! I'm soooo changeable! It is a weakness with me. But to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness. You can't be allowed to continue. You just can't. I would try to convince you, but everything I have to say has already crossed your mind."

Sherlock turned and pointed his gun at Jim then slowly lowered it to the bomb laying on the floor in between them. Jim's eyes widened slightly. Nobody else, not even Sherlock, noticed the accidental gesture, but you could tell Moriarty didn't expect it. You weren't going to kill your brother, or have Sherlock kill him. You stepped forward in front of Sherlock so your body suddenly was thrown into a red tint.

Jim, Sherlock, and John's eyes looked terrified. Your head snapped abruptly to face Jim. Sherlock lowered his gun. "There's only so many _really_ intelligent people in the world, do you really want to kill some of the best? Do you _really_ want to kill _me_? Could you?" you said narrowing your eyes at your brother, "Remember Jim," your voice lowered to a whisper and you took your time leaving spaces in between your words, "I.O.U."

Jim took a deep, shaky breath. "You know, someday you'll be coming to me for help, and remember you owe me... But what for?" Jim asked, looking mockingly confused. Sherlock and John's confusion looked genuine. "Have you not told them?" Jim asked with a sly smile. You locked your jaw. "My secrets are my own, but they never were with you. You really shouldn't have opened that door or you never would have experienced true horror. Now leave or do what I couldn't do myself."

Jim's face turned white as a sheet. "You win." he breathed and slowly walked out of the pool as the red lights went out one by one.

 **DONE WITH ANOTHER LATE CHAPTER!**


	8. To My Only Friends

**This is just too much fun to write, and I have the end planned! You'll love the plot twist(s). Your guess is as good as the next person's what they'll be! TRIGGER WARNINGS!**

You, Sherlock, and John looked after Jim until he was totally out of sight. Your vision stayed on the spot your brother had gone, but you were broken out of your revere when you felt a pair of arms wrapped around your waist and a head nuzzled in your hair.

You hugged back, momentarily stunned. "Never do that again." you heard the deep voice of the consulting detective from the top of your head. He lingered for a few moments more, then pulled away abruptly, straightening his suit jacket with a _crisp_ tug. "Sorry about that." he said regaining his usual brisk manner.

John stood there, mouth hanging open, then closed it profusely looking distinctly annoyed. "What's got a bee in your bonnet?" you asked, placing your hands on your hips and raising an eyebrow.

"You two would just make such a good-"

"Couple?" you and Sherlock rang out at the same time. You both giggled slightly and some color rose to both your cheeks. _I wish he'd like me, but he doesn't have a heart, he's made that clear..._ You thought with a look of dismay flickering across your face. Sherlock looked at you and a smile tugged at his lips.

 _She's too perfect to settle for me.._ He thought to himself, a frown now tugging at his lips.

 **A Month Later**

Sherlock had died today. You didn't know what to do with yourself anymore. Your only brother was dead with him. John was at his grave saying goodbye. That was something you could never do. You weren't good at goodbyes.

A glint in the corner caught your eye. You did a double take. It was one of the things that you were familiar with. Sherlock had finally noticed a week ago.

 **_-Flashback-_**

You had your hands folded underneath your chin and were sitting on the therapist-like couch that was in the living room. You were in your Mind Palace and weren't paying attention to much. Sherlock sat down next to you and you came back to reality.

You tried to yank down your sleeves. It was a reflex by now. Sherlock gripped your wrist with a little pressure: Enough that you couldn't get away, but not too much that it hurt. "You keep doing that." he said, tilting his head like a curious puppy studying a bone, "It's on impulse when people approach you." he said, gripping your wrist a little tighter.

"But why?" he continued to inquire. You tried to hold your composure, but you let out a whimper of pain as he began to grip your wrist tighter.

"What's under your sleeve?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows. _He felt the scars_ , you thought, _damn the scars..._ His hand reached precariously up towards your sleeve. You struggled to pull back as hard as you could.

He ripped down your sleeve to reveal a pathway of scars. He could only see your wrist and you could tell he was already horrified. His eyes widened, his mouth dropped slightly, his breath intake was sharp and forced, and you could feel his pulse shoot up. You were emberassed and tried to pull back once more, but he wouldn't let you go.

The only word he could manage to utter was a faint, "Why?"

You froze. Anger, _anger_?! It felt slightly different it felt like pity, sadness, anger and emberassment all together. But whatever it was, it was building up inside of you. _Why? WHY?! What sort of a question was that?! Had he never felt alone?! Unwanted?! Unloved?! Abandoned?!_ you thought, _But wait_ , a gentler, more sad tone took in your mind, _Of course he has..._

You took a deep breath and the detective looked up at you with something in his eyes that shocked you. _Tears_.

"Sherlock..." you began hesitantly.

"What?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.

"Let me explain to you 'why'." you stood up and this time Sherlock let your fingers slip gently from his hand.

You picked up the violin from the center of the room then sat back down next to Sherlock. You were glad John wasn't home. You exhaled deeply then readied the violin and bow. Sherlock visibly relaxed. "Don't be relieved yet," you said with a chuckle, " I sing like a screeching hag."

"I think you sing like a beautiful Siren." Sherlock said with a shrug, "Then again, the song may be falling on deaf ears." he smirked. You knew it wasn't true, but you were pleasantly surprised at the compliment.

A string of notes came together in a beautiful melody and began to sing in the voice that enchanted Sherlock every time.

 _"There was a time, when I was alone, nowhere to go and no place to call home, my only friend was the man in the moon, and even sometimes, he would go away too..."_

 **_-Flashback Ended-_**

You sighed remembering how John broke another mug when he heard that you had been self-harming. He dropped his mug and walked over to you to give you a hug. Though he never said, you were like a little sister to him.

You walked over to the corner and picked up the razor. _No_ , you thought, _that's not enough pain._ You supposed that death wouldn't come close, but it would be more painful. Maybe it'd be better than this living hell. You grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. Then you hesitantly grabbed your phone.

You flipped through the songs then found one that made you smile, even though tears were hitting the screen. You clicked play then paused it right away. You wanted to be found with the beautiful song playing in the background.

It remind you of him. The note you wrote was short, and you hoped it meant _something_ to the people around you. For the first time in your life, you realized you had friends. You had someone more than a friend who never even knew what he meant to you.

The note read:

 _Dear Everyone,_

 _If you even care, I'm sorry. Sherlock is dead and I don't even have my brother. I tried to play on the side of the Angels, but that doesn't make me stop being a demon. I suppose I was full of trickery and lies. I kept a stash of secrets that never saw the light of day. I spilled my secrets to my chosen few. Only at this time do I realize I was never truly alone. I suppose I now realize I have friends. So to the friends that I dont know care at all, thanks for something._

 _Goodbye,_

 _[Y/N]_

Sure the ink was blotched in places because of tears, but there was nothing you could do. You left it on Mrs. Hudson's desk. It was in an envelope labeled: _To My Only Friends._

You walked up the stairs to the flat and sat back down in Sherlock's room. It still smelled like him.. Cedar, old parchment, and London. The hint of his cologne stil in the air. Fresh tears came to your eyes.

You reached over and grabbed your phone with a trembling hand, and a bottle of sleeping pills with the other. Your finger pressed the play button and the sound of the violin played and the fist few words came out in your voice from the phone. You joined in with the recording.

 _"Carry on my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done..."_ You popped open the lid to the bottle and rotated one pill between your fingers. You popped in in your mouth. It tasted bitter, matching your life at the moment.

With your hand shaking wildly you tipped the rest of the pills in your mouth. You chewed and swallowed. A tear rolled down your suddenly pale face. _"Don't you cry no more."_

 **DON'T WORRY! THIS ISN'T THE END! I'm doing at least one more chapter! Comment what you thought of this chapter!**


	9. Sweetness In His Life

**So It did leave of on a dramatic note... I know I might have upset you guys, but look at Moffat for example, how many times has he ripped out our hearts? Too many. Exactly.**

A few minutes later Mrs. Hudson got home from her errands. She spotted a note on her desk and was obviously curious. She saw it was in your handwriting. _To My Only Friends..._ She thought, _Hmm.. Well it was on my desk._ She opened the note slowly. As she began to read her jaw dropped and she pulled up her hand to cover her mouth. As she read the last part she ran up the stairs. She tried to open the door, but it was locked. She pounded as hard as she could. "[Y/N]!" she shouted desperately, tears streaming down her face, maybe there was hope?

She rammed her whole weight into the frame, and even though she looked rather frail, she was stronger than she looked. "[Y/N]!" she shouted desperately again, rushing about the flat. She stopped running, panting heavily, in the center of the living room. She thought she heard music coming from the only room she hadn't checked. She crept towards Sherlock's old room and placed a shaking hand on the knob. It was unlocked.

"[Y/N]?!" she whispered through the door. She could hear the violin and 'you' singing. She felt relief. She flung the door open to see your ghostly pale, blank face with your body laid back, your dead eyes staring at the bookshelf, and an empty pill bottle in your hand as the music played with your voice, _"Masquerading as a man with a reason, my charade is the event of the season..."_ She let out as screech as a wave of grief washed over her. She had lost two close friends today. She was like a mother to Sherlock and you.

She ran back down the stairs as sobs and shudders with a river of tears overwhelmed the poor landlady. She grabbed the phone to dial the Watson who had no clue of what had just happened. It rang on and on until, _You have reached John Watson, please leave a message at the tone. Beep._ She slammed the phone down and sat down. She grabbed the envelope, which she had not ripped, and sealed it gently again with her hands shaking wildly. She addressed it to Lestrade, you two had gotten close.

He read it and had more of a reaction to your death than Sherlock's. He actually turned out to know you better. You were a little sister to all of them. Well, all but one. But he was gone, and so were you.

 **Two Years Later**

John stood outside the glittering black door emblazoned with gold. _221B_ it read. He hadn't been here since... You know. He reluctantly gripped the handle and crossed the threshold. He shut the door as memories came back to him in a rush. He heard Sherlock's sweet violin music as he recounted their first true meeting after chasing down a cab with a killer cabbie.

Mrs. Hudson came in, cutting off John's thoughts. She stopped abruptly at the sight of him. He lifted up his hand to say hello, then began up the stairs into the flat he previously inhabited. When he was upstairs he walked into the living room witch was thick with dust from lack of use. Just lack of living things for that matter, unless Sherlock's hexperiments got seriously out of hand.

He sat down as Mrs. Hudson started to make coffee. She slammed down the coffee and mug with the cookie tray falling shortly after. She smacked down the sugar, then, quickly realizing her mistake, said, "Oh no, you don't take it do you?"

"Um, no." said John a little confused.

"You forget a little thing like that." said Mrs. Hudson, spacing out slightly, "You forget _lots_ of little things it seems.." she said as though trying to prove a point.

"Uh-huh.." a rather uncomfortable silence fell. Mrs. Hudson soon broke it, however. She reached up and moved her finger in a line above her upper lip. "Not sure about that though. Ages you." **Sorry to interrupt, but none of us really liked it, did we? "** Just trying it out." John replied awkwardly.

"Well it ages you." said Mrs. Hudson rather fiercer than she intended. "Look..." John began in an explanatory tone.

Mrs. Hudson suddenly said, "I'm not your mother, I have no right to expect it, but just _one_ phone call John! After all we went through!" all her sadness showed clearly on her face and her disappointment showed as well. She sat down with a soft _thump_ and buried her head in her hands. "Yes." John replied in a soothing tone, "I _am_ sorry."

Mrs. Hudson took a deep breath and took her head out of her hands. "Look, I understand it was difficult for you after... After.." she shook her head, seemingly unable to say the words, _After Sherlock died_. John nodded and clasped the old lady's hand, "I just let it slide, Mrs. Hudson, I just let it all slide... And it just got harder and harder to pick up the phone somehow." he sighed heavily, "Do y'know what I mean?"

Mrs. Hudson suddenly took a sharp intake of breath and let it out slowly. " Yes John... I do.."

"Where's [Y/N]?" John asked hopefully.

"Well," Mrs. Hudson began, her voice close to cracking, "That's how I know it gets harder to pick up a phone!" She suddenly dissolved into tears, her head disappearing into her hands once more.

"Is she alright?!" John half-yelled, highly alarmed, "Is she okay?!" Mrs. Hudson slowly raised her head and the tears slowly died away. She shook her head, "J-John, I d-didn't know how to t-tell you... I t-tried to c-call you but it d-didn't work!" she wailed miserably. "What happened?" John asked persistently.

"Sh-She's dead John! She killed herself the same day as Sherlock and I just didn't know what to do!" John froze. He was utterly unable to process what she had just said. "No..." he whispered. Mrs. Hudson was completely silent. "Did she leave anything?" John whispered, barely audible above the noise of London outside and Mrs. Hudson's tears.

"W-What?" Mrs. Hudson stuttered. "Did she leave anything?!" John said harshly. Mrs. Hudson nodded and reached into her jacket pocket. She pulled out an envelope with your writing, faded, but still readable.

John took it and read it over and over, unable to comprehend what you had done. His left hand dropped to the table and his right hand was shaking wildly, making the letter hard to read again. John closed his eyes and slowly lowered the letter to the table. He was silent for a few moments, frozen is sadness, shock, and disappointment. He stood up after a while longer.

"Well.." he began, "Might as well try to lighten the mood.." Mrs. Hudson raised her head. "I've got news." John said with a smile flickering across his face.

Mrs. Hudson was pulled back to the living, there was no point in being sad _now_. John continued, "Well, I've met someone, and we're getting married. Well, I'm going to ask anyway." He beamed brightly.

"So soon after Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson said, though she, too, was smiling. "Well-" John began, but Mrs. Hudson cut him off, "What's his name?"

"It's a woman, actually." John said, slightly annoyed.

"A woman?!" Mrs. Hudson shouted with a wide grin, "You really have moved on, haven't you?!"

"Mrs. Hudson- how many times?- Listen to me," John said, very exasperated, "I. Am. Not. Gay!"

 **Later That Night**

Sherlock had very dramatically revealed himself to John and Mary, interrupting the proposal, as you know. So now there was Sherlock, about to go back to his home in London, where he belonged. Mrs. Hudson heard the door open, stepped back from washing the dishes, but took a frying pan with her.

Then she saw the sihouette at the door. That silhouette could only belong to one person. As the door was drawn back, her hopes were realized as the pale face of Sherlock Holmes came in. She screamed. Of course she screamed. What else was she going to do?

It took all of Sherlock's patience (which wasn't much) to calm her down. When that finally happened a moment of silence fell. Sherlock, of course, being Sherlock, broke it first. He broke it with a question that broke more than the silence. The answer broke his heart, and if you listen closely to this, maybe you can hear it shatter.

"Well," he began, shouting down the stairs to Mrs. Hudson, not knowing the question's answer would kill him, "Where's [Y/N] at? I need to tell her something important." Mrs. Hudson dropped the tea tray. "Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock shouted, "Are you okay?!" She made her way up the stairs with shaky steps.

Sherlock was waiting for her at the top. "Are you okay? Is [Y/N] okay?" Mrs. Hudson nodded, then shook her head. "Sit down dear, we need to talk." Mrs. Hudson explained everything, from the note, to finding your body in his room, to telling John. She handed him the note. Lestrade gave it back to her after he read it.

Sherlock stood up once she was done and merely said, "Excuse me." He stayed in that room for two weeks without coming out. When people asked him things, all he said was "I'm fine!" He had never said anything to you about his feelings, and now he never could.

 **John's Wedding Night**

Sherlock had left early. Weddings weren't really his style. He missed you too much to think about weddings. He opened the door leading to his flat, happy to get changed into his... Other suit... He started up the stairs when he heard something.. A violin. He probably just left the recording on. Who knows, he had been very distracted today.

As he approached the last few steps a beautiful voice drifted through the door. It was all too familiar, and it was singing. " _I'm coming home, I'm coming home, tell the world I'm coming home, let the rain, wash away, all the pain of yesterday, and though my kingdom awaits, and they've forgiven my mistakes, I'm coming home..._ " it was on loop and they could've been singing for hours.

He opened the door, unwilling to believe it was true. When he opened the door and in a few moments a matter of things happened. One, the violin player stopped, two, Sherlock collapsed and dissolved into tears, head in his hands, three, the voilin player stood up and turned around, four, the violin player was you.

"I am... So sorry." you began, not knowing where to start or how to explain yourself. You faltered, and stopped. You walked towards Sherlock's form on the ground and kneeled with him, so you were still shorter. You gently pried Sherlock's hands off his tear-stained face so his steel grey eyes were locked with your [E/C] ones.

You leaned forward slightly, so your faces were inches apart, and whispered, "Do you want to know how I made you fall for me Mister Holmes?" He leaned in so your noses were now touching, and whispered back, "How?" You grinned, but now showing any teeth, then whispered in reply, "I fell for you myself."

Sherlock's eyes flicked down to your [L/C] lips. He couldn't take it anymore. He closed the gab between you two. He needed to say so many things for so long, and Now that he had you back, he intended to say them.

When you finally pulled back for air you whispered one more thing to Sherlock, "Moriarty owed you a fall. Looked like you got one more than you bargained for." You both stood up in unison. "I don't know about you," you said to Sherlock with a weary smile, matching his, "But faking your own death is _exhausting_." He took your hand in his. "I know _exactly_ what you mean."

You both walked to Sherlock's room and cuddled. It had been one heck of a night. You fell asleep first, you were fried. The rhythmic pattern of your breathing eventually lulled Sherlock to sleep as well. The last thought he had before giving in to his dreams was, _John definitely was right. The trio is back at Baker Street at last. Hopefully it will be like this for a while. _

As he slept, he dreamt of the mischeif and the crimes and the deductions, but for now, he'd be just fine with the tea Mrs. Hudson makes for him in the morning and the sweetness you brought back to his life.

 _Love._ He thought, _What a funny thing._

 **So I'M FINALLY DONE! This is one of my cutest Fanfics yet! (And it has trigger warnings!) Hopes you guys enjoyed it, and don't forget to tell me what you thought!**


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